


Cold

by lorannah



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:58:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorannah/pseuds/lorannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scenes of sorts for episode 2 - because whilst I love that they're focusing more on the ladies of Camelot, I wish they would work out they can feature more than one of them at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Download link: http://www.box.net/shared/14ldgi1lfk

Morgana isn’t sure anymore whether she is shivering because of the cold or if something else has creeped in and settled beneath her skin. She is pressed onto the windowsill, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, staring at her reflection surrounded by the darkness.

She traces the shape of her bare feet against the stone, fingers drawing tired circles across her freezing toes. The comfort of skin against skin. It is small enough, a subtle lie against her loneliness.

She can’t sleep. Won’t.

It has been a long diminishing hope that this night wouldn’t arrive, a lie that even she had started to disbelieve. Gwen would tire of her needless dramatics eventually, inevitably. The thrashing, tangled sheets. The screams and nightmares. The endless burden.

Gwen couldn’t even meet her eyes when she told her she wished to spend the night at her own house. Morgana can’t begrudge her the desire. She would escape if she could.

But it aches to be alone and she’s scared. Scared of waking without the strength of warm arms. Scared of not waking.

It is hard to meet her reflection’s eyes. She does not like to see the fear and weakness in them – it fills her with shame. She closes them, pressing her hand against the glass and vowing to find her strength again.

Unseen, the glass fractures spreading outwards like ice beneath her fingers.

* * * * * *

Gwen gives up, between the hard sacks and Arthur’s snoring, sleep is going to be impossible. Perhaps it was impossible already; it has been long years since she slept here. After her mother’s death, before she had started working at the castle she had not been able to imagine being away from here – from the heat of her father’s protection, the warmth of the furnace, the deep stench of metal work – she had barely moved an inch from him.

It horrifies her sometimes to think how quickly things had changed. Could change.

At the time, as the changes had happened she’d been eager for it, now she wishes it had taken longer. That she had lingered by her father’s side. But that was not what she’d wanted and her father had understood – her place was by Morgana.

It’s a strange itch, this being apart from her now.

Before long all her nights had been spent at the castle. They hadn’t even replaced her bed when the old one had been damaged by a fire. She’d return each day and cook and clean and talk...

Once her father had died there hadn’t seemed any point. This was the first time she’d returned in months. As she’d stepped through the door she’d been shocked how cold it was inside. In the forge the anvil stood black and lifeless.

And how dusty. It had been a mad, desperate fight to make it presentable for Arthur as she’d cursed Merlin under her breath. It still didn’t seem clean. Every now and then she would reach unconsciously for the broom and try to scratch away the dirt. It didn’t work.

Arthur grunts again. And that’s it; she can take it no longer. Gwen climbs from her makeshift bed and moves with long practiced silence to retrieve her cloak. She will go back to the castle, even if Arthur awakes before she returns she can merely say she was checking on Morgana.

She hesitates for a moment, the door already open a fraction, watching where Arthur sleeps in her father’s bed. There is something oddly unsettling about the scene. She does not blame Arthur for what happened – her father had run and Uther’s orders were always clear – but the sight twists inside her.

Perhaps it is that deep down she knows she should feel anger, even hatred but she doesn’t. She is not sure exactly what she feels when she looks at him anymore but it is not hatred. Everything about Arthur has become oddly unsettling.

He squirms slightly against the night breeze, pushing his face deeper into the pillow and slipping outside Gwen closes the door.

* * * * * *

Gwen pushes inside her own room at the castle and is greeted by a warm gust of air; happily she shrugs out of her cloak, laying it across her trunk. She can feel her heart slowing peacefully, even though before she hadn’t known it was beating unsteadily.

Soft light spills from beneath Morgana’s door. They must have forgotten to blow out the candles. Silently inside, she finds Morgana curled tensely in the window.

“My lady?”

Morgana twists quickly, her face pale and tired and scared. “Gwen... I...” there is something close to guilt in her voice and eyes.

“You should be asleep,” Gwen says moving across to her.

“I couldn’t...” Morgana’s hands are cold as Gwen takes them.

“You’re like ice.”

“You didn’t have to come.”

There is a slight pause. “I wanted to. Come, you should be in bed.”

Morgana lets her lead her. “I’ll light a fire,” Gwen adds.

“No!” They stand for a second close together, Morgana fearful and Gwen worried. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Of course.”

They climb in to bed together as they have done before, so many times. Gwen with Morgana in her arms, hands wrapped together, warmth spreading between them. They lay in silence for a time and Gwen thinks for a moment that Morgana is already asleep.

“I’m sorry,” Morgana murmurs at last. “I’ll change.”

Gwen squeezes her hands, wanting to tell her that she doesn’t want her... this... to change but cannot find the words. Cannot find words she is allowed to say. Instead she presses a soft kiss to the corner of her neck. Equally forbidden.

**Author's Note:**

> My policy on permissions for use of my work is that you don't in fact need my permission to make art, record podfic, remix, critique, translate, save, share or otherwise reuse and interact with anything I've done. I'd love it if you'd share a link with me when you're done.
> 
> Any comments are also welcome – I'd love to hear what worked for you and (truly) what didn't or about those really obvious typos that my mind can't see anymore. If you don't want to comment publicly, feel free to e-mail me. Everything and anything will be loved and cherished.


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